Space Opera
by Hawki
Summary: Infinite Warfare Oneshot: Can one see the opera when you're in the middle of a space opera yourself? I dunno, why the heck are you asking me?


**Space Opera**

"Come on Salt. First opera held on the moon. We're never going to get another chance like this."

"All of that's true Reyes. Just don't give a shit."

Reyes, sitting in the mess of the _Vigilance_, decided to choose his next words carefully. His first inclination was to joke that Nora Salter was an "uncultured swine," but since he valued the bone structure of his nose, he decided against that. His second inclination was to try and stoke Salter's jealousy, claiming that he'd go with someone else, but she'd shoot down that bluff faster than a Skelter. His third inclination, and the one he decided to go with, was to try and press his case.

"This is a once in a lifetime chance," Reyes said.

Sal didn't look up from the mashed potatoes and synth steak.

"It's _La Libertà _by Salvio Donovani. Widely considered one of the greatest composers of the last few decades."

"Good for him," Sal murmured, still not looking up from her food.

"It's meant to be symbolic," Reyes said. "Like, there's no sound in space, but there'll be song on the moon. They're refurbishing an entire wing of Lunar Gateway for it. Earth's best and brightest will be there, and-"

"Reyes, you want to grease the armpits of Earth's so-called best and brightest, go ahead," Salter snapped. She looked up from her plate. "Just don't expect me to tag along for the ride."

"But I've got two tickets."

"Then give it to someone who might appreciate the so-called finer things in life." She went back to her meal, her fork gingerly tapping the steak.

"How is it?" Reyes asked.

"Tastes like crap." Salter nevertheless took a bite. "Actually, scratch that. Crap has a taste. This doesn't taste of anything."

"Well, we all know how important protein is."

"If protein's important, then kill me a fucking cow already." Salter, having finished the bite of steak, lingered her gaze on the potatoes (cold), broccoli (covered in some kind of sauce Reyes couldn't identify), and carrots (the worst of both worlds). He knew they tasted like that, because he'd got the same meal. And as it turned out, the best and brightest of Special Combat Air Recon still weren't afforded anything above the usual gruel dished out to the men and women of the UNSA.

But opera tickets were. Because reasons. Reasons that he didn't quite understand, because while the UNSA might want to put on a pretty face for the trials and tribulations of the age, he'd have thought that there were even prettier faces than his that could go down to Luna, sit listening to music for four hours, and then make a speech about the needs and hopes for the future. Like, try and take the people's minds off how the SDF had taken Titan only a year ago, and that there was a really strong chance of war breaking out within the decade by current projections.

"Reyes."

He turned around in his seat, casting his gaze over the mess hall. Same uniforms. Same meal. Two flatscreens showing the same latest gravball match. Some purists disliked football (or soccer if you were a Neanderthal) going all 3D, that having boots on the ground made for a much better game, but-

"Reyes!" Salter slapped him over the head.

"The hell?" Reyes looked back at her, rubbing where she'd hit him.

"I'm sorry, would you prefer I break your nose instead?"

Still rubbing his head, Reyes murmured, "once was bad enough."

"Aw, poor baby."

"I still haven't forgiven you for that."

"And I'm flattered that you remember. But it's either the nose, or the head, or some other body part that needs to be hit to get your attention. And trust me, you wouldn't like the third option."

He stopped rubbing his head and frowned.

"So?" Salt asked, putting in more potato. "What's up?"

"Um…"

"You've got the whole 'far away look, life, everything, and the universe' look going on," Salter said. "Figure you might as well get it out now."

"Actually Salt, the phrase is-"

"And just because Raines sends you opera tickets, that isn't going to help matters." She slid the plate forward (none of the food had been fully eaten) and leant back in her chair, folding her arms. "So. What is it?"

Reyes wanted to ask her about Raines – how'd she know? Like, he didn't even know himself, he'd just got them sent to his inbox via the _Vigilance_'s ansible. But in hindsight, considering that Raines had the authority to do that, if not necessarily the motive, then it made sense.

"Still waiting," Salter murmured.

But Raines would have to wait. Sighing, Reyes opened his mouth to speak, and-

"Is it that you're worried about the future, and that space opera might take your mind off the fact that we're kind of in a space opera ourselves?"

…and no words came out. His mouth opening and closing, he shoved some broccoli into it. Still tasted terrible, but at least it made him seem less like a simpleton.

"I knew it," said Salter, smiling. "I mean, makes sense. War with SetDef is coming, and it's about as clear cut a fight as there is."

"Salt…"

"Come on Reyes, you don't need to play devil's advocate." Salter looked around the mess hall before leaning in. "They're Martians. They're jackasses. They've been hounding us for nearly thirty years, and that's not even counting the shit they pulled in the Secession Wars. And after Titan, you think any of them are going to attend the Lunar Gateway performance?"

He blinked. "How'd you know about that?"

"I watch the news Reyes. Gave me all the info I needed to know that space opera in the midst of space opera isn't my thing." She looked at his plate. "You eating any of that?"

"I-"

"Mine." She took some of his potatoes and began chewing.

Reyes didn't say anything. First question was why Salter was eating his potatoes when she still had some on his plate. Second question was whether there was anything he could say to dispute her assertion. Because much as he'd hoped that common ground could be found between Earth and Mars, nearly three decades of skirmishes throughout the Sol system had sent those hopes into a black hole. The ground of Mars and Earth was different. The culture was different. Mars, once a colony of Earth, had gone the same route as all colonies had in human history, only it had never lost its resentment for its motherland. And in the midst of all that was the SDF. Led by people who weren't interested in any notions of music being a universal language, or music, literature, or anything that could be considered culture. For Mars, there was conflict, and little else. Martians it seemed were about as close as an alien species that the people of Earth were likely to get. And like most alien species in fiction, conflict was the result.

Hence, space opera. Hence, in the midst of upcoming mandatory shore leave, and opera, and a first for mankind, he couldn't stop thinking about the shit going on beyond Earth and its moon. And how Salter, bless her or damn her, was reminding him of it.

"So," he said eventually. "If not the opera, what then?"

Even if he was reminded of what was coming, he was still willing to stick his head in the sand a bit longer.

Salter, in the midst of poking at potatoes (her own again, thankfully), looked up at him. "Excuse me?"

"Shore leave is shore leave. If not on the moon, where?"

"Well, I-"

"And don't say the Jackal or firing range. That won't fly in any sense of the word."

She folded her arms and pouted. "You're no fun."

"Well, I-"

"But you don't outrank me either. So, I'll do my thing, you do your thing, and when we're done, we'll get back to doing other…things."

Reyes blinked. "Other things?"

She shrugged and picked up her tray. "Thought I had something clever to say."

"But you went with 'things.'"

"It's a beautiful word. So, I'm going to take my thing (she bobbed her tray up and down), and take it to another thing, and think about things I'm going to do, before doing the important things."

Reyes nodded. "Duly noted."

"Have fun at the opera." She paused, before saying, "or not."

Reyes watched his pilot go. Thinking of things to do.

Things to say.

* * *

_A/N_

_So, after all these years, I finally got round to playing _Infinite Warfare_, and it turns out that all my misgivings about the SDF being one dimensional bad guys were entirely justified. :( _

_Anyway, drabbled this up._

_Update (13/12/19): Changed "too" to "two."_


End file.
